


Sixth Place

by spideyslut



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Deadpool - Freeform, Deadpool angst, Ice Skating, M/M, Spideypool - Freeform, Wade needs a hug, Yuri on Ice AU, spiderman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23584438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideyslut/pseuds/spideyslut
Summary: Peter hit the ice with a heavy thud.He had let everyone down. He knew that everyone at home was watching, Aunt May, Gwen, Mj and Harry. And they had just seen the lowest point in his career, scratch that, the whole world had seen it.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! this is a yuri on ice au, but you don't need to have watched the anime to get it!  
> I know this first chapter follows the anime really closely but the rest won't!!

Peter hit the ice with a heavy thud. 

The crowd gave a collective gasp, but Peter was deaf to it. His heart was thudding in his ears. He struggled to scramble back upright, but his head spun and he appeared akin to a fawn attempting it’s first steps just moments after birth. 

It must have only taken him a few moments to regain his composure, but to him, it felt like hours. He knew his free-skate was almost over, and with every second the dread mounted. He knew that when he came off the ice he would be forced to face the fact he had come last. 

He had let everyone down. He knew that everyone at home was watching, Aunt May, Gwen, Mj and Harry. And they had just seen the lowest point in his career, scratch that, the whole world had seen it. 

The music had ended, and Peter’s eyes were already watering. He told himself it was just the glare from the ice, and that’s what he would also tell to rabid reporters that would swarm him the second he stepped off the ice, just as they always did with the underdog. He had always watched in pity in previous years as the reporters had harassed the poor soul that had come last. Call him big-headed, but he had never expected himself to be in that position. 

Perhaps it was time to retire, he thought as he trudged off the ice to meet his coach. He was met with pitying eyes and a gentle pat on the back.

“Hey Kid - you never know, your short programme was oka-”

“Steve. We both know that is not the case.” Peter said thickly, close to tears. 

Steve said nothing, but let out a long, slow sigh and looked at Peter with tired, blue eyes.

Peter felt guilty for a moment, but it was overshadowed by the immediate wave of nausea as he heard the boom of the announcer's voice over the tannoy. 

“Peter Parker’s free-skate has been scored 98.42, giving him a total score of 232.59 - he is currently in sixth place.” 

Peter turned away from the ice. He didn't even have the heart to watch the last skaters perform, this was usually the thing he enjoyed most about competitions. 

Only one remained and of course, it was the most talented skater, 5-time gold medal world champion, Wade Wilson, who also just so happened to be Peters idol and perhaps his celebrity crush.

But Peter didn't care to watch - too embarrassed by his welling tears and flushed cheeks, he fled to the confines of the bathrooms before he was spotted by a fan or worse, a reporter.

He shut the stall door behind him before he finally let the torrent of tears that had been building up to fall. Tears rolled down his puffy red face and his headache from exhaustion. He gasped for air like he was drowning and fumbled for his phone. For a moment he couldn’t help but just stare, anxiety building. But he just wanted to hear Aunt May’s voice, even if it was full of disguised disappointment. 

It rang three times before she picked up, each ring echoing out into the quiet of the bathroom, making Peter feel even more alone than ever before. Reminding him that he was alone in a country where he didn't know the language - or anyone really. 

Before he had time to register it, Aunt May’s voice was in his ear, dripping with sympathy, which Peter knew she meant well, but filled him with resentment nonetheless. 

Their conversation was a short one, which Peter ended quickly as to avoid breaking down when he heard phrases like “public viewing” and “It wasn’t that bad”.

Peter could faintly hear the delighted shrieks of the audience as Wade Wilson threw himself recklessly about on the ice - probably breaking world records as he went. 

Peter had loved Wade Wilson’s skating since he was old enough to step foot on the ice - long hours had been spent meticulously copying programs of Wade’s step for step and many nights had been spent feverishly consuming youtube videos of Wade’s practise sessions - and to have messed up so badly in front of him today made Peter recoil with shame and embarrassment. 

Peter was rather rudely startled out of his wallowing by the sound of a heavy black boot slamming against the flimsy cubicle door, shaking the entire row of stalls. 

He, practically winded with shock, fumbled with the lock, opening the door as fast as he was able. His eyes instantly met with the dark brown ones of this year's junior Grand Prix final gold medalist, who was standing directly in front of him. She must have heard everything. 

The girl had cropped hair and thick black liner surrounding her eyes - which were currently boring into Peter like he was a piece of gum she had stepped in. She was nicknamed Negasonic Teenage Warhead, (supposedly a name thought up by the fans, but Peter was sure she had come up with herself in order to seem intimidating and edgy and, in all fairness, the name did fit).

She surveyed him slowly, almost like she was sizing him up for a fight before speaking, “What you did out there was an embarrassment. I wouldn’t be surprised if you retired after this year.” 

Peter’s mind was blank. “U-uh this i-is the boy's bathroom.” He stuttered out, regretting it immediately. 

She merely rolled her eyes and continued, “I’m competing in the senior division next year, so if you’re not retiring out of embarrassment, maybe fear will do the trick, I can’t imagine competing against someone as incompetent as you,” she smirked. “And I’m sure you’re aware that you won’t even stand a chance.” 

Peters’s face contorted into a mask of disbelief, no other skater (especially one Peter still considered a child) had ever treated him like this. 

But before Peter could comprehend what was going on, the girl had stalked out, leaving Peter standing in the middle of the bathroom alone. It was over so quickly and was so bizarre Peter was unsure for a moment if it had even happened.

Peter may have been thoroughly shaken up from his “little run in” with the spitfire that was Negasonic, but he had too much pride to let anyone know that. He made his way to the exit, trying to seem as nonchalant and carefree as possible. 

He didn’t even stop to chat with the other skaters on his way out, he didn’t want to be objected to their pitying smiles. And maybe Peter was bitter, but seeing those standing with their medals decorating their necks would've been too much. 

That could have been him.

It was the evening now, and Peter was leaving for home. For the first time in four years. 

He dragged his suitcase through the crowded hotel lobby - being swarmed with reporters, he saw a few of his competitors and offered them nothing more than a weak smile. None of them tried to start a conversation with him, that is until he locked eyes with Wade across the lobby. 

Yes. Wade Wilson. 5-time world champion. Wade. Winston. Wilson. 

Wade was currently barging through the sea of people waving frantically at Peter. Peter was frozen to the spot, having never managed the guts to talk to Wade, always afraid of acting stupid.

“Peter! Peter Parker!” Wade trilled in a thick Canadian accent. His voice was unusually light for such an… intimidating looking man.

Wade was 6”3 and much bulkier than many of the other male skaters. He had piercing blue eyes and the sharpest jawline Peter had ever seen. 

Not to mention he was covered head to toe in a web of scars, the origin of them never disclosed. Wade was an enigma, and Peter doubted even his closest friends knew how he had gotten the scars. 

Wade was approaching quickly and Peter could not move, it’s like he was rooted to the ground in pure terror. 

“Peter Parker!” Wade clapped his hands loudly, making Peter wince “Not your best performance today eh?” 

Peter gawked at the man’s frankness -remembering he was known for not having any kind of filter (any news reporter that had bothered Wade when he didn’t want to be bothered would attest to that).

Peter could only mumble noncommittally, heat flaring up his neck and ears as Wade gave him a megawatt grin.

“So! Pete, Peter, Petey!” Wade babbled, undeterred by Peter's lack of response to his question. “Fancy taking a quick picture?” 

Wade continued to spew some bullshit about them both having alliterative names, but Peter had completely tuned him out. Did Wade really want a picture with him? For what? 

Wade’s piercing gaze was now expectantly fixed on Peter, awaiting an answer to a question Peter wasn’t sure if he heard.

So...Peter did the only thing he could think of. He turned and walked away. Leaving Wade alone in the crowd of reporters, all asking why Peter didn’t want a picture. 

Peter wasn’t sure why he turned and walked away from Wade that night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Wade or found him irritating (as many did). He just wanted to go home, he just wanted to be away from the stifling atmosphere that skating was. 

And well, Wade was Peter’s Idol, he couldn’t be near him when he knew he would never skate well enough to even be competition in Wade’s eyes. So he turned and walked away. 

From Wade, from his competitors, and from skating.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long :(

Peter was getting used to life at home again, Aunt May was glad to have him back. Everyone was. His welcome home was just as warm as he had anticipated, full of gatherings and celebration. He had missed his family.   
And for a few joyous days, Peter didn't even have time to think about the future of his career.

Being home had allowed Peter to relax. He spent long days pottering about in the garden or reading by the big window, He had missed this cosy suburban town, nestled in the outskirts of New York. He had missed Late mornings and hearing the lazy drone of dragonflies over his backyard pond as he tended to the flowerbeds.

However. All these long summer days with nothing much to do were giving Peter a lot of time to think. And it was only a matter of weeks before Peter was becoming restless, he had weeded the flowerbeds almost to oblivion, and was sick of his aunt’s cheesy romance novels. 

It was on one of these long, restless days, that Peter was lounging on a deckchair for lack of anything better to do, sipping his aunt’s iced tea and scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, when a post caught his eye. 

It was Wade. 

It wasn't a particularly interesting picture, Wade had simply snapped a picture of himself back at his home rink. He wasn’t even on the ice, just sat on a bench to the side.   
The caption looked about the length of an average dissertation and was full of irrelevant tangents ( a few of them in different languages for some reason?) Peter huffed out a laugh, clicking on Wade’s profile. 

Scrolling through Peter found a video of one of Wade’s short programmes.

To put it simply, Peter was mesmerised. It was one of the best programmes he had ever seen, conveying a sense of innocence and purity.  
And, though as athletically insane the skate was, full of a huge volume of jumps and combination turns, which was typical of wade, It almost didn't seem right. Wade skating like this - it almost clashed with him. 

Peter sat up from his chair.

He was going to the rink. 

\----------------------------------

The music Wade had picked was beautiful, light and staccato. Peter shoved his earbuds in, letting the music remind him of what he did best.   
He barely needed to look at Wade’s video for reference, it was as if the programme was made for him.  
He completed the delicate footwork and combination spins with ease, and pretty much landed most of the jumps, apart from his quadruple salchow, which he went over on, and scraped his hands over the ice.

It didn't matter though, at that moment he felt as if that was what he was born to do.  
His passion seemed to be reignited with each move he performed.

The music came to a crescendo and Peter finished in a flourish, breathing hard.

The rink was silent until a clap echoed from behind Peter, he stumbled to his feet, whipping round - immediately embarrassed that such an emotional dance had been observed.

There stood one of his oldest rink-mates, Harry. Beaming at him.

Peter’s face was quickly turning the shade of a tomato, but Harry didn't seem to notice, he was busy hastily shoving his phone deep into his pockets. Before Peter could question why on earth Harry had even had his phone out, he was bombarded by Harry’s onslaught of excited rambling.

“Peter I’ve never seen you skate like that!” Harry bounded over to him, continuing to ramble about how the programme was made for him and asking such a multitude of questions that Peter was not able to even attempt to answer.

Peter could only grin in response, ears still burning with the embarrassment that his friend had seen such a personal performance. 

After Harry had chattered excitedly at Peter for a full 15 minutes, they had decided to retire to the locker rooms, Peter’s feet were aching, not used to the skates after so many weeks spent in slippers.

Peter noticed the first buzz of his phone whilst he was slowly unlacing his skates, anticipating the painful blisters he would undoubtedly have, he dismissed the buzz, assuming it was probably a Bitlife notification or subway surfers telling him to “Come and collect his daily prize!!!!” 

He continued to pick at the annoyingly tight knots in his laces… His phone buzzed again. That was odd, he had told aunt May he wouldn’t be home for dinner so it couldn’t be her. His phone then erupted, buzzing frantically, as if someone was scrolling through his Instagram, spam liking his posts. 

Peter searched through his pockets for his phone. The screen was lit up with notifications, mostly from twitter - all questioning his “comeback?” and his “new programme” 

Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. So that was why Harry had been on his phone. He was recording him. Peter knew that there had been no malicious intent, but why on earth would Harry have uploaded the video?? 

\----------------------------------------------

Wade lay, sprawled on his couch. It was hot. Too fucking hot. 

Wade was bored, there was nothing good on TV, he had played all his video games so much he practically remembered the dialogue word for word, and worst of all, he didn't even feel like skating. 

It’s not that he was tired of it, he just, didn’t know where to go from here, he had aced last year and now what? Retire to a life of fast food and nothingness!?!?? 

Well maybe he was being dramatic, but really, what is the point of skating competitively if he had no real competition, he had won year after year and it was getting a little bland. 

He turned over on the couch in a huff and took out his phone, trying to ignore his reflection in the black screen, he didn’t have to try for too long though, as his phone chimed with a notification, someone had tagged him in something. Wade smiled, hoping one of his followers had made a meme about him. But what he was greeted with shocked him, it was a video. Of Peter Parker (Alliterative skater buddy :) ) skating HIS programme. Better. Than. Him. 

Wade sat bolt upright in his chair. Watching the video intently. Peter was skating his programme, with such skill, that he was in awe. Wade spluttered as the video continued, Wade remembered Peter from last years skate, and to be honest, he was well, terrible. But this? Wade had never seen anyone skate like this before.

As the video continued, Wade noted that, though the pure emotion of the skate was insane, some of the more technically challenging parts seemed to throw Peter, Wade, of course, wasn’t surprised, it was a difficult programme. 

Then Wade got an idea, a very very good one, A smile slowly crept onto his face as he opened his laptop. Looked like he was going to NYC baby!


End file.
